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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23486014">Come Out Of The Things Unsaid</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalone91/pseuds/notalone91'>notalone91</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adult Losers Club (IT), Couple goals, Domestic Fluff, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Engagement, Love Confessions, M/M, Quarantine, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Social Media, TikTok, Whirlwind Romance, everyone out here doing teen reddie social media aus but like COME ON</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:42:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,095</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23486014</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalone91/pseuds/notalone91</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After living with each other for over a year, Eddie still hasn’t told Richie he’s in love with him.  After living with each other for over a year, Eddie decides that it’s now or never.<br/>They are quarantined, after all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>208</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>One of the first things Eddie had realized when he and Richie had decided that self-quarantine was something they should be doing was that, for the sake of the other Losers, he had to start documenting it.  Why he chose Tik Tok as the platform for his video journaling, he wasn’t entirely sure, but it was quick and easy and had the biggest outreach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After about a week of playing with the app, he came across a trend.  A boy, no older than he and Richie were when the Toziers had left Derry, was being filmed from across a bedroom with LED track lighting.  “This is my best friend,” read the tiny text on the screen. The shot changed to another boy, the same age, smiling, looking past the camera.  “Today, I’m going to tell him I’m in love with him.” The boys were sitting next to each other at a kitchen table. Eddie’s heart hammered in his chest.  He covered his mouth, stunned and terrified for the kid. The boy turned to his friend, grabbed him by the chin and tilted his head to kiss him. His friend stopped, stunned, and pulled back staring.  Eddie wanted so desperately to look away from the screen, but as soon as he went to, the object of the boy’s kiss went back for more.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flipped through page after page with the same story.  They were all so young. And they all had more courage than he ever could.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re braver than you think,” his brain offered in Richie’s voice.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, on day eight of quarantine, it became his project for the day.  He was going to tell Richie exactly how he felt. Knowing that his video would be a little different, especially being old enough to be these kids’ father, he figured he’d upend the format.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie started on his face as the babyish voice began to sing.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t stay awake for too long. </span>
  </em>
  <span> A low angle, mainly his eyes, his hair, and the ceiling.  “You guys are amateurs with this Crush on my best friend thing,” his text read and he rolled his eyes at the camera.  “I’ve had a crush on my best friend for as long as I can remember,” flashed the next block. He nodded slowly before a larger block popped up over that one that read, “We’re 40,” as a filter made his eyes widen cartoonishly, fitting the bass drop before the rap perfectly.  His face disappeared and went to a screenshot of a dating profile that had Marital Status: Divorced highlighted and a new text that read “I even married a woman.” The next block popped up, simply marked “yep,” with the camera pointed back at his grimacing face.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The camera cut to Richie, lounging on the couch with his socked feet resting on the wall. </span>
  <em>
    <span> I don’t wanna go to sleep. </span>
  </em>
  <span> “This is Richie,” the next block of text announced.  There was a quick montage of scenes through their day, mainly Richie doubling over in laughter and doing things to annoy Eddie.  “He’s an asshole and a slob and…” The next clip showed Richie carrying two cups of coffee into the living room with a bag of Pepperidge Farm Montauks between his teeth, while a new text box proclaimed “The sweetest person I’ve ever known.”  The scene shifts to Richie’s feet in his lap. “Probably the only person I’ve ever loved” is suddenly scrawled across the screen. The camera angle changes to show Eddie’s bittersweet smile before jumping back to Richie, who’s expression makes it plain that this is more than normal.  There’s a quick shot of their living room, neat, but clearly lived in by two people, then the hallway, two bedroom doors open. “I’ve been living with him since my divorce,” the screen reads, dauntingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Today-” the next frame shows, as though shot from a coffee table where Richie seems completely unaware of it, Eddie sitting beside Richie, nervously looking between him and the camera.  “He finds out how I feel.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his head, Eddie had expected to be turned down.  He’d expected Richie to get pissed. He’d expected a fight.  He’d expected to lose him, and forever this time. He hadn’t expected, when he reached over and laced his fingers into the hair at the nape of Richie’s neck to pull him into a kiss, that his best friend would let him kiss him, then stare at him for a sizable amount of time.  Heart hammering hard enough that he couldn’t help but be concerned for his circulatory system, especially as it seemed that his heart was set upon climbing out through the scar on his chest, he moved in for a second, even longer kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The posted version of the video cuts out with Richie staring at Eddie and you can see him mouth out “Wait, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The reality was a little more complicated than that.  “Wait, what?” Richie asked, voice a little hoarse. His eyes flitted across the smaller man’s face.  “That was-” he panted, still missing the verbal part of his brain. “Eddie, what?” He tried to put the pieces together, but couldn’t seem to follow the breadcrumbs back to where the fuck that had come from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie pulled his right leg up onto the couch and tucked it under his left.  “I don’t think I can be any clearer than that,” he said, suddenly terrified to make eye contact with his best friend.  Instead, he stared at the edge of the couch cushion. Maybe if he stared long enough, he thought, it might open up and swallow him whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna have to, Eddie,” Richie said, moving to mirror Eddie.  His expression was, to Eddie, completely unreadable. “I’m gonna need you to spell it out for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When a person panics, they lose quite a bit of their ability to pick up on facial expressions- especially when they’re having a hard time looking at the person’s face.  If Eddie hadn’t been so terrified, he might have seen the terrified, hopeful smile curling the edges of Richie’s lips into a smile. He might have seen the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.  He might have seen the way that Richie’s hands reached for him ever so slightly, almost instinctively.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He might have done any of those things if his brain wasn’t so pinpointed to “Fuck, I fucked this up.  Now, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he searched for an answer, his gaze, traitorous as it was, locked with Richie’s.  “I think…” he started, pulling his hands back into his lap. It was stupid. He was stupid.  What was he supposed to say? I saw a bunch of fifteen-year-olds owning their feelings and got pissed off at myself so I decided to do it, too?  No. No, instead, he continued to babble on. “No, not think. Just…”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, Eddie?”  Richie asked quietly, sounding a touch more impatient than he’d meant.  He folded his arms across his middle protectively. He just wanted Eddie to say whatever it was he meant because, for all that Richie was, he was not a mindreader.  He also was not in the mood for guessing. Not where this was involved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not over something he’d wanted for as long as he could remember.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even when he couldn’t remember, he was always looking for Eddie.  Every nameless body that had made their way into his bed, including his old manager, bore some resemblance to Eddie.  He’d pieced it together sometime around the time Eddie had snapped at him the first time in the Jade all those many months before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing Eddie could manage was a shy, tense, “I love you.”  Richie’s eyes widened and Eddie fought with his fight or flight reflexes, each screaming run.  “Not like, in the way that we’ve been saying it to each other since we were kids, either,” he added, forcing himself to smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t know how to respond.  He reached a hand for the man whose soft, warm lips had been so recently upon his own, the lips he’d dreamt about over and over for the last thirty-odd years.  “Eddie…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, flight won out.  “Okay, forget it. I’m sorry.  I didn’t…”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever he said was clipped off by the sound of his bedroom door closing.  Dumbstruck, Richie stared after his best friend. Boyfriend, he supposed? Something like that?  Do you have boyfriends in your forties? Partner?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the night passed in deafening silence.  Richie had always been a night owl, so the sleepless night wasn’t new for him.  Eddie, on the other hand, had already noted a marked decline in his circadian rhythm since the beginning of the quarantine.  A week of nothingness and working from home had manifested into the perfect home for a bout of insomnia. Of course, he’d fucked it up.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From where he’d set up camp on the couch with his laptop, Richie watched Eddie duck silently into the kitchen, fidgeting with his AirPods to get them seated right as he went for a cup of coffee.  A few moments later, he retreated to his bedroom. He rose from the couch and moved to follow him, hoping that maybe enough time had passed that they would be able to clear the air. He hoped, beyond all hope, that Eddie wasn’t too embarrassed.  Truthfully, he thought the boldness was kind of (really) sexy. He just really, really wasn’t expecting it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, he saw it.  Glistening rose gold on the dark marble countertop.  Eddie had left his phone. With a smile, he knew what to do.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie knew his fanbase skewed younger.  He was raunchy but still gave off “daddy” vibes, which he really hoped meant the man from whom they received half of their DNA.  Somehow, though, based on their remarkably extensive and graphic emoji usage, he was pretty sure that wasn’t the case. Yikes. However, what that meant was that he was, at the very least, aware of how the platform worked.  Plus, he’d done some odd jobs around LA when he was first getting settled, so editing was something he was fairly used to.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Filming his feet as he walked, Richie stifled a laugh as he walked, knowing that when it posted, he’d make sure that Eddie added: “Eddie left his phone in our kitchen but he’s got AirPods on...”  He stopped and leaned up against the wall just outside Eddie’s bedroom door. He flipped on the screen record setting as he searched for the audio he wanted, then pressed play, immediately sending it to Eddie’s ears. </span>
  <em>
    <span> Fell in love with my best friend check!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And he waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first time the sound clip played, Eddie’s brows furrowed, confused.  The second time, the words sank in. Through the third, he bolted from his bed and threw open the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Casually as he could, Richie waited through the whole process filming the entire time.  When Eddie finally came into view, he felt his heart start to race, even though he knew how he felt.  That didn’t mean that his reaction was going to be good. “Oh god,” he thought, “what if he’s mad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The finished edit of the video ended with Eddie’s unheard “Really, Rich?” before knocking the phone just about out of his hand and hesitantly reaching out for him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What happened next was just for them.  Richie nodded. “I love you, Eds. Always have.”  He pulled Eddie in close and pressed their foreheads together.  The proximity alone was intoxicating. The way that Eddie seemed to fit just against him.  It was better than he could ever have imagined.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, fuck, had he imagined it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie hadn’t, however, imagined the urgency in Eddie’s touch.  He could never have imagined the want in his kiss; the need in the way he pressed him against the wall.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In what felt like the blink of an eye, Eddie had taken fistfuls of the front of Richie’s ratty, old T-shirt and pulled him backward into his bedroom.  He made his way into the room by rote, feeling for the edge of the bed with his legs and tugging Richie with him. Without further instruction, Richie climbed on top of Eddie, kissing him hard until they were both breathless.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s hands wandered along paths he’d never dared trace- the curve of Richie’s ass, the exposed patch of skin just above the waistband of his sweatpants, the strong line of his jaw.  He’d never have expected, after so much time, there would be so much of Richie to learn. Letting out a little moan, he grasped the bottom of Richie’s shirt and nearly pulled it off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reeling, Richie pulled back.  “Wait, is this okay?” he asked, as though he was the one calling the shots. Eddie looked up at him and smiled, continuing to work at Richie’s shirt as he sat up.  “I’m serious,” he said, resting back on Eddie’s thighs and fiddling with the edge of his shirt. “If this is too much too soon, tell me and I can-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Propping himself up on his elbows, Eddie considered Richie for a minute.  Up until that precise second, it had never occurred to him that Richie would be anything but eager and sure in the bedroom.  “Richie,” he said gently, “I just mauled you. I am enthusiastically and emphatically on board.” He laughed a little at himself, then reached a hand to cup Richie’s face.  “Are you okay with this?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been waiting my whole life for you,” Richie answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was quiet and more serious than Eddie had expected.  He’d expected jokes and the normal Certified Richie Tozier Schtick.  That would come later. For the time being, the </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was too astounded to be anything but appreciative.  Finally relieving Eddie of some of his clothes, Richie started to kiss a meandering trail from Eddie’s jaw to his wrist.  Eddie hooked his opposing leg over Richie’s back and hitched his hips ever so slightly, pressing against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They moved together, uncertain and tentative.  Each movement was something new and exciting and, fuck, was it terrifying.  As more clothes were shed, more touches shared, Eddie found himself lost in the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sex had always been pressure for Richie.  It had been his desire to please, and his need to convince himself that it was fulfilling.  It was good, sometimes. Great, once or twice. But this? This was incredible. Eddie was strong and soft and he actually wanted him.  With every noise, every breath, every moan he made sure that Richie knew.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not only did Richie know, but he took great joy in getting those responses; The way his mouth just a hair's breadth away from Eddie’s was too far, the way his soft hands searched for any piece of Richie to grab on to.  He moved backward off the edge of the bed and refocused his attention to more pressing matters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thanking every one of his lucky stars, Richie’s fingers danced over Eddie’s cock.  He looked up at him, a wordless question in his eyes. Eddie nodded, realizing that for two men who never, ever shut up, neither of them were much on the dirty talk, which was actually sort of surprising.  But there was no pretending. It was all very real. It was all very intimate.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie combed his fingers through Richie’s hair and tilted his head up.  He watched as he carefully ran one large finger over his length before allowing his tongue to do the same.  His motions were slow and teasing. Eddie’s hips bucked up involuntarily and Richie smiled to himself. He had a greedy thought- one where he dragged this out all night, worshipping Eddie in the way he’s wanted to for so long, and in ways he knows Eddie’s deserved but never truly experienced.  It would be an honor and a privilege, but the way Eddie wass already starting to squirm, he knew he wouldn't last that long. And they’ve got time. They’ve got so much time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three days that followed were accompanied by radio silence from the new couple.  The losers were trying desperately to get through to them in turns. Someone from TMZ had gotten a hold of Eddie’s account and the videos from the night prior had blown up overnight.  Bill, Ben, and Mike were shocked by the developments. Bev and Stan, however, were outraged that this was how they were being subjected to it. Instead of having the opportunity to throw things and cash in on years and years of told-ya-so’s and about-fucking-time’s in person, or at least over FaceTime, they had to find out in two memes.  They were pissed. Bev was about to be that bitch and storm the airport and buy out a plane to yell at them, but Ben convinced her to save it and instead, for the time being, rant at him for being oblivious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The new couple decided to finally reemerge with, as expected, another video.  Richie was sitting at his desk, working on some material and minding his own business.  Eddie placed his phone down on the shelf by the office door and gave the camera a cheeky grin.  He strode to where his boyfriend sat and lifted his hands, snuggling in between his arms and his chests, knees just through either arm.  There’s an instant where he thinks he’s pushed it. For about a second, Richie continued to type and said something, though his mouth is obscured by Eddie’s head and his words are muted by the merit of a ten-year-old Jason Mraz tune.  His hands dropped to Eddie’s thighs and he pulled him up a little higher, then wrapped his arms around him tightly. He kissed the top of his head and left his face pressed into Eddie’s hair. Their faces were relaxed and happy, much the opposite of the overarching feeling of the two weeks prior.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though the video wasn’t very long, it had the most comments of any of the previous ones.  Eddie was pleased with that. He was pleased with pretty much everything, truthfully. He uploaded the video a little while later, thoroughly pleased with himself.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they lay in bed the night before, the men had discussed where they stood with regards to their relationship.  They were very much on the same page. They were too old to lay hung up on expectations and societally imposed rules.  They weren’t strangers. They weren’t kidding each other. They were both all in. So, fuck it, right? They were already very clearly in each other’s lives.  They lived together. There would be no hiding it, so from that point on, they decided they had to just go with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not wanting to deal with the notifications, Eddie placed his phone on silent and left it in the office.  He and Richie sat side by side on the couch, his legs draped over one of Richie’s. Richie pulled up the group chat and flicked through the notifications, rolling his eyes at the overreactions.  He then typed out “Family Meeting in Five, Losers.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wash your hands before you touch your phone, dickhead,” came the first response from Bill.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughed, but didn’t get a chance to come up with something snarky because Eddie snagged it from his hands.  “We each have a UV sanitizing charger, fuck you very much,” he answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give Richie his phone back,” Stan answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A barrage of emojis and gifs came into play then.  By the time Richie got them all on Facetime, they were laughing at each other still.  Bev and Ben seemed to be laying on the floor in the most ridiculous outfits they could find.  Mike and Bill were sitting on Bill’s roof, throwing paper airplanes into his neighbors’ yards.  Stan was on his couch, trying to do the all-white jigsaw puzzle that he’d gotten as a gag gift but never attempted.  It was nice. It was something like normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normal, that is, until Bev remembered she had a bone to pick with Richie which then triggered the conversation to fall into total anarchy.  Which, to be fair, was normal, too. The call ended with Patty threatening to take and hide one puzzle piece every 7 seconds until they behaved or hung up and an ominous siren from Mike and Bill’s screen.  Laughing at the ensuing chaos, Bev and Ben said their goodbyes and promised, as soon as the travel ban was lifted, that they would plan a Loser’s Club getaway.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that was easier than I thought,” Richie said, closing Eddie in his arms and pulling him more into his lap.  “I expected them to be pissed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shifted a little, resting against Richie’s shoulder.  “Maybe the fact that I cried and bitched to Bill over you a couple dozen times,” he admitted sheepishly, brushing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.  “And that Stanley is omniscient.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nodded.  That was true. “And Bev has texted me weekly since Derry asking if I’ve made a move yet?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie said with a laugh.  “I think this is going to be good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not weird?”  Richie asked. He’d secretly been worried all week that everything was going to come crashing down.  That Eddie would think it was too awkward or that he wasn’t what he wanted or that not enough would change or too much already had.  That was the thing about this “social distancing.” It didn’t allow for social distancing from the crowd inside his head. And they were always his biggest issue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, life continued on.  Eddie even managed to restart his workout routine without leaving their apartment.  Towards the end of the second week, he’d worked up enough strength again that when Richie suggested, jokingly, that he just bench press him, he lit up.  “No, I have a better idea.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Halloween, they’d gone to an eighties themed party as “Nobody puts Baby in a corner,” which meant that, somewhere in their apartment there was a comically large baby bonnet.  Once he’d found it, on a high shelf in Richie’s closet, Eddie showed Richie the trend they were hopping on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Richie carrying his phone to film, Eddie swept him off his feet and proceeded to carry him into the bathroom.  “This my baby,” started the audio track to which Eddie lip-synced. Richie made a tough, pouty face, and stared at the camera, dutifully ignoring the powder pink fabric wrapping around his face.  Eddie gave Richie a little bounce, taking him by surprise, as he nodded, finishing, “And ain’t nobody finna touch her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a hint of a laugh starting to creep into his eyes as he stopped the camera, swinging his legs down and removing the bonnet.  “Holy shit, babe,” Richie laughed, “I didn’t think you could actually lift me for that long.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re tall, but there’s no weight to that head of yours, so-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie took off at a run and Richie, easily caught up, grabbing him by the arm and spinning him back to his bed.  “Is that so?” he laughed. “You’re still small enough that I can do just about anything I want, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If that was a line, Eddie was more than biting.  “Bet me,” he snarled playfully. He attempted to snake his way out from under Richie but found himself caught by the ankle.  Richie tugged him closer to himself and, with one smooth motion, flipped Eddie onto his front. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From his angle, Richie definitely had the upper hand.  He placed his strong hands on Eddie’s thighs and pulled him back so that his ass was firmly situated against him.  “Do I win?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I do,” Eddie laughed, rising to his knees and kissing his boyfriend over his shoulder, letting his hands wind their way into Richie’s already-getting-wildly-out-of-hand hair.  Richie leaned down and nipped at the base of his neck. “Yeah, I win.” It was hard for either of them to declare the other the “winner” when both were suddenly aware that they had everything they’d ever wanted.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the days dragged on, their video updates became more and more ridiculous.  One morning- sure, it was 1:30 pm but quarantine time doesn’t really count- Richie snagged Eddie’s phone off of his bedside table when he was in the shower and slowly started walking toward the bathroom.  Cringing as he typed Lawrence Welk into the search bar, nights of his parents, hopelessly in love, dancing in his living room to reruns of the old program on PBS flitting through his head, he finally found the song he was looking for.  There was a flitty melody that played as he walked, opening the bathroom door and reaching out to slide the door open. “Oops... my heart went-” Realizing what had happened, Eddie reached for his towel and gave chase after his boyfriend as the song cut out to a jarring “Fuck!”  There was nothing in frame for the majority, except the flailing of Eddie’s arms as he smacked Richie repeatedly for the intrusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing as he was knocked to the floor easily, Richie wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and kissed him on the cheek.  Eventually, Eddie gave up his assault and went to get dressed. Richie watched him, realizing for the first time that Eddie wasn’t stopping him.  Come to think of it, nothing had been off-limits for them. In the two weeks since Eddie had decided to make his move, as much as everything had changed, absolutely nothing had changed.  The uncertainty of the world at the moment, Richie’s canceled tour dates, Eddie’s work from home, all of it- it was a stark contrast to the stability of them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And for the first time, he realized that he could, theoretically, marry his best friend.  More than that, he really fucking wanted to.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ordinarily, he’d have told anyone that less than a month of dating was not enough time to know that you wanted to marry someone.  Ordinarily, he would have said that an international quarantine during a pandemic was the worst time to open that discussion. But they’d been living together for years and known each other forever.  If he was going to marry anyone, it was going to be Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe not yet…  But soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was doing everything he could to ignore that he was gaining serious traction on the app, but a young boy’s comment on his first video stopped him dead in his tracks.  The kid claimed that he had never seen such honest and hopeful proof of adult gays. Prior to that, he hadn’t read the comments, past the “duets” from the other Losers, usually, just their faces laughing and talking at his and Richie’s antics.  He spent the rest of the night reading the comments with his head rested on Richie’s lap as he watched TV. “Do people really think this?” he asked, showing his boyfriend the screen of his phone focused on a comment that simply said “#marriagegoals” with a heart-eyed emoji.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” Richie said, eyes barely grazing over the device before going back to cringing at Dr. Pimple Popper’s procedure.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared up at him for quite a while.  “Is that really what you want,” he asked when he finally managed to clear out the dial-up noise echoing in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Richie mused, rubbing his hand over Eddie’s chest gently.  “I’m not the one with a basis in marriage,” he teased, earning himself a light smack to his thigh, “but I know that when I imagine what I want out of my life, it’s this.”  He smiled softly. He’d given it a fair bit of thought, he supposed, but what he had always wanted was a relationship like his parents had- one full of love and happiness and just ridiculously and steadfastly in love.  He had spent years sure that he couldn’t have that. He was a guy who liked guys and all he’d ever seen of that was disaster. He came of age during the AIDS crisis for fuck’s sake. He’d heard all the scare tactics. Sure, he knew plenty of successful gay guys with husbands now.  He’d just had a Zoom meeting with Neil Patrick Harris and Ryan Murphy a couple of nights before about fundraiser ideas. He’d been a part of the Comedy Central Roast of Mario Cantone. He knew it was possible. But still, he was sure that it wasn’t possible </span>
  <em>
    <span>for him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then came Derry and all of his memories and, along with them, 5’9” of pent up aggression and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded.  That was certainly a valid point.  However, it had never occurred to him that simple things like that were what people so desperately craved.  Perhaps he’d been so warped by his ex-wife that the sheer idea of a love based around equity and trust and compatibility was unimaginable.  When he thought about that period of his life, 10 years of marriage and 5 dating, he was never sure of a single God damned thing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Richie?  Richie was a constant.  The way he felt for Richie?  The way Richie, now so clearly, felt for him?  Everything about their life together? It fit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The video they posted that night was a little more simple.  Eddie on the floor between Richie’s legs as Richie sat on the couch.  Both of their eyes closed.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who has a better sense of humor?” asked an offscreen track.  Both of them pointed at Richie without hesitation. “Who used to be a bigger ho?”  They both laughed at the phrasing, but Richie waved his hand as if to say ‘who the fuck do you think?’  Eddie snaked his free hand around Richie’s leg and rested his head on his knee while they waited for the next prompt.  “Who does better in school?” They both pointed at Richie. It was clear that Eddie wanted to make a smartass remark, but refrained because no one would be able to hear it anyway.  “Who’s room is cleaner?” For the first time, both men adjusted to point at Eddie.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s more sensitive?” the voice asked.  Eddie laughed and pointed at Richie who was already pulling an annoyed face and pointing at himself.  He leaned down and said something just meant for Eddie’s ears. In turn, he tilted his head back and kissed whatever part of Richie’s face he found- his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing, he reached up and said something that looked like ‘I won’t do it again, I promise,’ which seemed to quell Richie’s annoyance until the track prompted, “Who’s meaner?”  Without hesitation, both men pointed directly and emphatically at Eddie.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the track reached “Who has a better taste in music,” they both pointed proudly at themselves.  “Who’s more clingy?” They pointed at each other. “Who goes out more?” Given their circumstances, they both laugh long enough that the question goes unanswered.  “Who eats more?” There’s a pause before both seem to settle on Eddie.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who has more friends?”  They both shrug, considering the fact that, not including coworkers, they have the same six friends.  Eventually, Richie tentatively points at himself and Eddie appears to say ‘you know more people,’ and points at Richie, too.  “Who’s more weird?” The fingers stay pointed at Richie who just shrugs. “Who’s the better driver?” Another point to Richie, despite the slight appearance of a contest from Eddie.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shifting, expecting the track to be over, Eddie leans up quickly as the voice asks “Who gets spoiled more?”  He smiles and points at himself as Richie makes a ‘no shit’ face and does the same.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s nicer?” it prompts.  They think about it for a moment, then both settle and point at Richie.  “Who needs more attention?” There’s no thought. They both point to Eddie.  Richie points between the camera and Eddie as if to say “come on, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next prompt, “Who gets drunk more?” earned another long pause.  Both men mulled it over. Since they’ve been living together, Eddie can count on his fingers the amount of times either had been drunk.  If it was on a historic level, Richie by a long shot, but now… “About even, Richie seemed to suggest and Eddie wordlessly agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Resting on his knees, realizing that the audio was longer than he thought, “Who’s more loyal?” it asks.  They pointed at each other after a brief reflection. Finally, it asked, “Who has better style?” Emphatically, they each pointed at themselves, laughing.  Eddie rocked forward and grabbed his phone, bringing the video to a stop.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The final frame had Richie’s hand rested flat on the small of Eddie’s back and, of the 2.3k comments, at least a quarter of them seemed to point it out.  There were duets from each of the other Loser couples, which Eddie loved seeing. He also enjoyed the comments from all of the baby gays who were absolutely mindblown that “The Guy Who Built That Big Ass Tower In London,” “The Chick Who Designed Harry Styles’ Met Gala Outfit For Last Year,” and “The Dude Who Wrote Attic Room,” are all friends with “This Tik Tok Guy,” and “His Husband, The Version Of John Mulaney That Actually Got The Gay Lever Switched.”  Richie had laughed at that one and sent a screenshot of it to John on Twitter, asking which one of them should be offended. In true Twitter fashion, there were thousands of replies, half of which had a gif subtitled with “No, that’s the thing I’m sensitive about!!!” attached.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day’s video was a little more impressive.  Eddie’s For You Page was often full of fitness videos.  One he’d seen circulating caught his eye. It involved one person standing mostly still, usually a guy that looked like Chris Hemsworth, while the other, some skinny little yoga girl, hopped on their back and climbed around them.  There were so many of people failing at it, so many of people commenting saying they could never. The thing that irked him, though, was that he hadn’t seen any pairs that were anything other than muscle-bound frat guys and their cheerleader girlfriends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell,” he figured.  He showed Richie the videos that morning.  “What do you think?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shrugged.  “It’s impressive,” he said, not really sure what he was being asked.  Then, it hit him. “No. No, absolutely not, Eds,” he said. “I am old.  I am out of shape. I-” he looked over at his boyfriend’s puppy dog eyes and groaned.  “Nuh-uh. No way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tugging him to his feet, Eddie asked, “Why?  Are you afraid you’re gonna drop me? I thought I was tiny?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are,” he said, “Tiny and precious and I am lanky and weak.  I am a wacky inflatable man, not Aqua Man. No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lacing their hands together, Eddie pouted a little.  “I trust you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately for Richie, that was all the push he needed.  Suddenly, they were standing in their living room working on take a billion of this mess that was, indeed, harder than Eddie anticipated.  Still, he walked over to his phone, did a little sorority squat, said “I’m gonna climb that like a tree,” with a cheeky smile over his shoulder to Richie.  He stopped the video and then adjusted so that the next clip could be stitched in neatly. He took two steps and squirrel jumped up onto Richie’s back. He snaked his way under his right arm so that they were front to front.  Richie gave him the slightest boost up over his shoulder and laughed. They were actually doing it! Eddie slid down Richie’s back, reaching his hands through his legs. Richie grabbed him by the forearms and pulled. There was a near-miss to tragedy where Eddie’s foot came dangerously close to a delicate area, but Richie pulled him up so that they were, once more face to face.  Eddie wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist, his arms around his neck, and kissed him, laughing. They’d done it. Richie’s hands slid down to Eddie’s ass and he gave him a quick bounce and spun him around, laughing too.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the video posted, there were countless comments about how flexible and strong they both were.  It was shameless, considering that they were old enough to be a lot of these people's dads, but it was fine, they guessed.  However, the outraged yells from the other Losers were the best responses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WE DIDN’T NEED TO KNOW THAT, EDDIE,” cried Bill, laughing, as Mike banged his head against his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben’s hand covered Bev’s eyes as she peeked through his fingers, whistling and catcalling.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan, however, had won.  His reaction simply showed a business’s “Sorry You Missed Us” sign.  Richie had gotten quite a kick out of that one. He imagined that was what often happened behind the eye rolls.  “Stan’s brain and will to live has stepped away for a few moments, please try back in 3-5 business days.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the end of the fourth week of their state-sanctioned quarantine, the topic of “Living A.Q.,” had come up quite a few times.  Not much would change for them, really, Eddie reasoned. If they’d managed to spend 24 hours a day together for the past month, there wasn’t a whole lot to worry about.  They hadn’t killed each other. There were no massive fights. No chafing, as Richie had so eloquently phrased it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple of nights later, sleep schedules officially shot to shit, the woke up and started their day whenever they felt like it, pretty much.  It was 2 a.m. It was quiet. They were sitting on the balcony off the kitchen together, just listening to the sounds of the hills, staring at the city lights.  “So, if that’s the case, and you really see this working out, do you want to marry me?” Richie asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that you asking?”  Eddie asked, half expecting it to be a joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realizing that it didn’t much sound like it, Richie turned to him and took him by the hands.  “It can be. But I can rephrase it if you’d rather.” He cleared his throat and locked eyes with him.  “Eddie Kaspbrak, my best friend, light of my life, love of my life…” Eddie stared at him, shocked. “I know that we’ve only really been a ‘we’ for a month.  And I know that we waited a long time, and I’d wait forever again, but I don’t want to spend another second where this isn’t waiting for me at home. Will you marry me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fast though it may have been, Eddie would have been lying if he said he didn’t feel the same way.  He’d already thought over every possible scenario and the likelihood of each. Of course, there were variables to be taken into account but, who the fuck was he kidding?? “Yes,” he blurted out, suddenly.  “Of course, yes.” He leaned forward and kissed Richie with enough enthusiasm that he may or may not have knocked his coffee cup off of the table behind him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day’s video was, per Bill’s assessment, ‘excessively sappy.’  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprising the ‘Sane Losers Time’ group chat, which consisted of Stan, Patty, Bev, Ben, Bill, and Mike, but never, under any circumstances Eddie or Richie, Stanley’s answer was “I don’t know.  It’s about time. If they’re happy, leave them be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patty, sweetie, do you have Stanley’s phone?  Is he okay? Does he have a fever?” Beverly sent in rapid-fire succession.  “Should we start planning for Hell freezing over too or?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m upstairs, working, because Stanley and I have normal jobs with normal office hours, thank you very much,” Patty answered from her own phone.  “But, I do have to agree. It’s sweet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>About five minutes later, Ben replied with “You’re just saying that because you two want to be their Best Man and Maid of Honor but Bev and I called that years ago!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within seconds, there was a barrage of texts to the Non-Richie-And-Eddie group chat, renamed For Fans Of The Richie And Eddie Variety Hour.</span>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>Bill: Do you honestly think that’s what’s happening?</span>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Mike: Already?</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Stan: Absolutely not.  I am Richie’s best man, Bev.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bill: Eddie would have said something, right?</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bev: No, I am.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Stan: Yeah, right</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bev: Do you wanna fight?</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Stan: Try me</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bill: Or, Richie would have?  If he was going to propose, he’d have panicked and run it by one of us, right?  </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bev: I WILL</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bev: I have my suit picked out and everything.  </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Stan: Okay, you can design his dress!  </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bev: Hey!  Richie would look stunning in white satin!</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Mike: White satin sheets if Eddie had his way.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bill: Ew.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Ben: Ew.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bev: Ew.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Stan: Ew.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Patty: Honestly…</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Stan: Patty!</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bev: Maybe after I make you a widow, Patty, because I will FIGHT YOUR HUSBAND TO THE DEATH ON THIS.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bill: HEY ANSWER ME</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bev: I am right</span>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Ben: Get ‘im, honey!</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Stan: In your dreams, Raggedy Anne.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Ben: Watch it.  Don’t make me cough on you!</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Patty: Children.  Don’t make me send you to your rooms.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Mike: We can’t go out and play anyway.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bill: I’m kicking everyone but Patty out of the Losers club.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Mike: Thanks, babe.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bev: Wait, what?</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Stan: What?!</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Patty: What?</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Ben: Where have you guys been?  Was I the only one that knew about this?</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bill: You were.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Ben: Oh.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bev: Thin ice, New Kid.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Patty: What did I do?</span>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Stan: That one’s not you, baby-love.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bill: 🤢</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Mike: 🤮</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Bev: 😧</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Ben: 🤯</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Patty: 😘</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Stan: 😎</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <em>
    <span>Put your hand in mine. </span>
  </em>
  <span> A clip of Eddie’s hand over Richie’s on the railing about an hour after he said yes.  He would have taken a video of them kissing, but then their puffy, tear-streaked eyes would have been visible. </span>
  <em>
    <span> You know that I want to be with you all the time.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>The pair of them laying on the couch together.  Their feet tangled together in bed. Eddie’s arm draped over Richie in the morning.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>You know that I won’t stop until I make you mine.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Richie sneaking up behind Eddie as he’s cooking breakfast.  Richie at his desk, writing. Eddie passionately debating someone over a Zoom meeting that quickly switches to a shot of Richie making a ‘yikes’ face and backing away.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>You know that I won’t stop until I make you mine.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Richie wiggling his socked foot in Eddie’s face.  Eddie coming in from the grocery store with a face mask and gloves, immediately going to the bathroom in a silent rant, ducking behind the door and stripping, handing his clothes out to Richie in a plastic bag to go in the washer immediately.  The couple cross-legged on the floor playing cards. Eddie trying to read and Richie making faces at him from behind the book. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Until I make you mine. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A lingering kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Buzzfeed, this time, that got their mitts on Eddie’s page.  The staff writer didn’t share Bill’s saccharine takeaway. She viewed it as a “refreshing” view on love and life in the COVID-19 age.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie rolled his eyes as he read the listicle.  He was more than used to seeing his name in print, but this was different.  He appreciated her positivity but wished she would have reached out to them for a comment.  It’s not like they were doing anything else anyway. Then, maybe, they could have made it seem less pretentious.  The viewership wasn’t intentional. Eddie hadn’t meant for that.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, it didn’t stop him from jumping on another bandwagon.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The text at the top of the screen read “Saw that people are doing this.  Watch his face!” The camera focused on Eddie’s bare feet as he came out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.  The cheesy saxophone solo of an old George Michael song played over the video, but the sound was low enough that you could still hear Eddie’s voice.  “Babe,” he said gently as the camera panned to Richie, sprawled on the bed, staring at his phone. “Richie,” he said, going for attempt number two. Richie hummed.  A towel dropped to the floor just out of frame. That caught Richie’s attention. He looked at it, then at Eddie. His pupils went blown as he began to register what was in front of him.  His mouth hung slack.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In less than a heartbeat, he had reached for Eddie and brought himself to his feet.  He pushed the phone to the side, stopping the video with the side of his palm as he moved to catch Eddie’s mouth.  “What the fuck, babe?” he asked, finally bringing his body to him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanted to get a reaction out of you,” Eddie giggled.  He slung his arms around Richie’s neck and kissed him lazily.  “Wanted that, too,” he added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trailing kisses down his chest, grazing lightly over the scar, Richie asked, “What else did you want?”  He sank to his knees, looking up at Eddie innocently over the top rim of his glasses.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his hands twisted in Richie’s hair, Eddie shrugged, replying, “The rest is up to you.”  He thought it over for a moment, then added, “You should remember, though, that I did just get out of the shower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Resting on his heels, Richie made a mental map, once his brain restarted, of course.  He ran his hands up Eddie’s thighs to grasp him by the ass. He jerked him forward roughly and pressed a kiss to the muscled v of his left hip, working his way closer to center.  He teased his fingertips through the nest of curls between his legs. He glanced up at him, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Would be a shame to get all dirty, now,” he said, laughing a little at how ridiculously porn-y that sounded.  </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rested his head back on the wall and rolled his eyes.  “You wouldn’t be able to talk so much with my dick in your mouth,” he groaned, stroking himself demonstratively.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>More than willing to oblige that, Richie pressed a kiss to Eddie’s knuckles before taking over his movements with his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Any plans they may or may not have had for the remainder of their day were effectively squashed.  They even opted for Postmates instead of cooking because Eddie had been, effectively, barred from putting any clothes on.  Richie didn’t particularly want to, either, but for the sake of a burger, he was willing to throw his sweats back on to answer the door, as long as he was going to take them right back off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few days later, when a delivery box came marked The future Mr. Eddie Tozier, Richie smiled.  He knew exactly what it contained.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, ordering an engagement ring online with your husband to be sitting right there helping you pick it out was not the most romantic thing Richie had done, but the way he saw it, Eddie was the one who had to wear it, so it should be something he loved.  He’d made a few alterations, secretly, so there was still some element of surprise. On the interior of the band was an etching- On one side, their initials, R+E. On the other, a single word: Finally. He opened the shipping box and took out the smaller black velvet one, beaming.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Putting his phone down on the counter and recording, he called out “Hey babe!” and smiled, tossing the box between his hands.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” came Eddie’s voice from the bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here!” he yelled again, opening the box and showing the camera.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened and closed and Richie could hear Eddie’s footsteps up the hall.  “What?” his fiance asked again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling at him as he rounded the corner, Richie answered, “I wanna give you something!”  He tucked the box behind his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Eddie asked, coming to a hesitant stop.  Richie had been watching a whole bunch of prank videos for the previous day, so Eddie was, understandably, wary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie dropped to one knee.  He opened the box and smiled.  “My last name,” he said, voice starting to shake, even though they’d already had this discussion.  Somehow, though, his heart still quickened, and tears welled in his eyes. It wasn’t that he hadn’t taken it seriously, but up until that moment, all he could guess was that his brain hadn’t really accepted it as real.  Eddie could just as easily have said no then as he could have that night on the balcony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moving toward him quickly and sinking to his own knees, Eddie asked, “It came?!” before kissing Richie with such force he moved the couch back inches.  Tears welled in his eyes as he looked down at the box. Richie slid the ring out and showed him the alterations. The welled tears began to flow freely.   “I love it. I love you.” He kissed him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the video posted, there were six comments on it.</span>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>BevMarshCollection: CALL ME.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>SureIsUris: ME FIRST</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>DenbroughWrites: *CALLED IT.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>MH76: CALL ME.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>BHanscomDesigns: CALL BEV.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>PattyCakes777: Okay, since your friends are all HEATHENS, I’ll be the first and only one to say it- congrats, loves!!!  Many blessings to you BOTH.</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <span>This time, instead of waiting to collect themselves, they grabbed They decided to FaceTime the group chat, so they didn’t have to decide who to call first.  Bev and Bill pick up immediately and start talking over one another. “I called it-” “Like everyone calls your plot twists! I need de-” “EXCUSE ME. I’ll have you know-” “What?  You’ll have me know what, Bill”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the rest of the Losers answered the call, it felt like they’re all bursting into their living room, each new voice adding to the chaos.  It felt like it should. It felt normal.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie turned to his fiance and cupped the side of his face with his left hand, smiling before pulling him into a long kiss that effectively shut them all up,  “Now, for the details,” Richie said, as soon as his head stopped spinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, that video is the one that, also, leads to the most controversy.  There are plenty of duets with people groaning about moving too fast. There were people who immediately started bitching that they were doing all of this for attention, that the first video had to have been fake if they’re already getting engaged.  People were rioting that he had decided to post the proposal in the first place. Lots of “Ok, boomers.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which was borderline insulting?  They weren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>old.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s video the next day was a brief explanation of why he downloaded the app in the first place and that, for what it’s worth, everything he’d ever posted was true.  The video got duetted by each of the Losers with screenshots of texts regarding the videos, confirming every word Eddie said.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, it didn’t stop Eddie from continuing the videos in the same manner he’d been doing the whole time.  A few days later, when things had calmed, Richie had taken his phone and was filming himself as he leaned over Eddie at the kitchen table.  “All these girls are out here saying ‘I could take your man if I want to,’” he said, altering his pitch into a ridiculous teen girl register.  “Listen… You don’t want to.” Eddie’s eyes widened as he looked at his fiance out of the corner of his eye. He hadn’t expected that when Richie said he had an idea.  “That kind of guy is not worth your time. Get you a man who-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe, think about what you’re saying,” Eddie said, cutting him off.  “You did take someone’s man. A woman’s at that,” he corrected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie zoomed in on a ridiculous smile.  The posted version cut to Boss Bitch at a deafening volume and snapped to black and white.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kissed the top of Eddie’s head, then handed his phone back, prancing off to his office proudly.  “What was that for,” Eddie called after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at your comments,” Richie prompted.  Eddie obliged, and immediately thumped his head on the table, growling.  “You’re welcome!” Inflammatory comments from MyMyMyra were posted on every one of his videos.  Derogatory names, whining, blaming, the whole nine. Apparently, her niece had shown her a “funny video” without realizing that the audio was Eddie.  He groaned, then set to work editing Richie’s get you a man speech. He posted it, waited for the comment, then went through and reported every single one of her comments.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he climbed into Richie’s bed that night, he groaned, “Why is she like that?”  He slid his arm under Richie’s neck and Richie rolled into him instinctively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up at his fiance and pursed his lips.  “About this or in general,” he asked. He had theories, of course, but nothing too groundbreaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Eddie answered.  It had been bothering him all evening, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.  When he’d taken his stuff and left, she’d been upset, but it was years prior. And it had been years coming.  And he’d just been through some Grade A Certified Shit, so why couldn’t she just let go?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sighed, nestling his face into Eddie’s shoulder.  “In general, I can’t really attest to much more than the part of your brain that wanted you to come back needed you to still be the same person you were when we fought It the first time.  If you had grown, or learned, It didn’t stand the same type of chance,” he said. This was something they’d talked about before, but sometimes, Eddie needed reminding. “With regards to this, however,” he said, tone turning a little more serious, “I’m sure she’s scared and lonely, like the whole world is, right about now.  And you’re a fucking catch,” he said with a laugh, “So, I wouldn’t doubt that she misses you. We know she hates me. And Bill, for some reason, so I’m sure that doesn’t help. Finally, and this is the big one,” he added propping himself up on his elbow, “She’s fucking insane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a scoff, Eddie opened his mouth to reply but found himself unable to.  Richie was right. That was one of the things he had always loved about him. Masked inside of every overreaction and self-preserving joke was a sense of unbridled truth.  Even in Derry, when they were all scared to death, all of his jokes were founded with some keen observation. When he’d shown up on Richie’s doorstep, a month after his release from the hospital, with everything he owned crammed into two suitcases and a backpack and announced that he was moving in, Richie had laughed and given him the grand tour, stopping him at the door to his bedroom with a sign on the door that said “Spaghetti House” and swung the door open to reveal that it was ready and waiting for him.  Richie had known. More importantly, Richie knew him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it turned out, that’s all that really mattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After weeks of isolation, Eddie had enough footage on his phone that one might think that his goal was to put out a self-produced reality show.  Instead, he pieced together another video to a popular theme.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first clip was just Eddie’s face with some text while an instrumental track arpeggiated.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>I decided to start a new relationship… during a quarantine… with my roommate… who is a stand-up comedian… and my best friend of 30 years…  </span>
  </em>
  <span>He nodded at the camera as the music dropped out and lipsynced flippantly to a female voice that said </span>
  <em>
    <span>And it went like… </span>
  </em>
  <span>Instead of keeping up the dreamy synthpop, the music dropped out and switched to Yakety Sax as the image changed from Eddie’s face to Richie attempting to grab his phone from the coffee table and falling off the couch.  Then, an early take of the video where Eddie climbed around Richie where Richie grabbed his arms too quickly and he slid down, taking Richie’s pants with. Then, another take of the same video where he kneed Richie in the balls, sending them both toppling to the floor.  The next clip was Richie bringing him breakfast in bed. After that, it was Eddie laying on top of Richie on the floor, just because he could. The next, and final, was his favorite, dancing together on the balcony the night Richie proposed.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were lucky, he supposed.  He knew that people were losing it.  He knew that there were people who were quarantined with their significant others who’d fought the whole time.  For as much as Richie and Eddie bickered normally, he couldn’t think of a single time they’d fought in the weeks since they’d entered quarantine.  It wasn’t a honeymoon phase, either. They were still, them, of course. But the fact remained that there was no one else on Earth he wanted to spend all of his time with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, though, the pandemic ended, the world still turned, and the quarantine lifted.  When it did, Eddie had a big, gay plan for a video to celebrate the end. The video started with just a shot of their front door with the text </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gays After Quarantine Be Like... </span>
  </em>
  <span> The Chris Cox remix of a Diana Ross song started.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m- </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie popped his leg out the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Coming-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s leg wrapped around the door as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Out!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Both pushed and playfought their way out onto the lawn, still wearing the loungewear they’d been wearing for weeks.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m coming!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The sunlight poured onto their faces.  They both jumped. When they landed, they were dressed impeccably.  Eddie in black dress pants and an eggplant-colored button-down, Richie in dark dressy jeans, a black shirt with a cherry blossom print and the sleeves rolled up with a pink blazer thrown over his shoulder.  Both wore dark aviator sunglasses. They looked like they’d stepped out of the pages of a magazine and walked toward Richie’s car. They held hands until they reached the door, which Richie opened swiftly. Eddie laughed as he posted the video once they connected to the airport’s wifi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ben and I are just getting to the house now.  Stan and Patty have been here for a while,” came a text from Bev.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looked across the lounge at Bill and Mike, playfully bullying Richie and smiled.  “We’re at the airport. Our flight’s not for another 45 minutes. Bill and Mike are with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, hurry up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll just go find the pilot and tell him…” he answered, laughing, as he sat down next to his fiance and took a sip of his Manhattan.  The clock on the wall tick tocked until their boarding group was called. “Let’s go get married,” he said, pulling Richie by the arm toward their gate.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Added Scene, inspired by @SamCJones</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Takes place in October 2020, so... Sometime after the "And It Went Like..." video but before the "I'm Coming Out" video which, tbh, in my head was supposed to be last summer but like... *cries in "I work in hospitality"*</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
<p></p><div class=""><p>Eddie sat curled in the corner of the couch, a glass of wine curled between his fingers. He stared at the phone in his other hand as though it offended 6 lines of his lineage. Well, no, like it had offended 6 of his closest friends. He kept trying to type out witty responses, but after looking at the profile attached to the laundry list of degrading comments, it was clear that the user was... young. Very young. Like, younger than the T&amp;C's young but, come to think of it, he wasn't sure they'd mentioned an age. But after an hour of comment after comment on his videos, the latest series being him teaching Richie how to play piano (despite how rusty his skill set had been) and Richie teaching him how to play guitar (even if most of those videos were cut short because Eddie couldn't keep his hands to himself). Most people thought it was cute.</p></div><div class=""><p>Except 69LonnyTheLiger420.</p></div></div><div class="">
  <p>By the time Richie came out of the bedroom, he was in the worst mood. "What it do, baby boo?" he said, dropping into the couch beside him and wrapping his arm around Eddie’s back. No response. Dejected, Richie leaned in closer and tried again. "What's the hap, cap?" He nudged Eddie’s cheek with his nose, finally startling him into reality with a high pitched hum. "I said, What's the tea, sweet pea?" Eddie crinkled his nose and shook his head, dismissing yet another nickname. "Do you not love me anymore?" he laughed, knowing that clearly wasn't the case, but something was definitely off. "Eds, what's up?" His eyes searched Eddie's for a moment before the notification noise for Tik Tok went off. Richie snatched the phone and opened it, frowning at Eddie’s notifications.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Give it back. It's nothing. It's-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Eyes wide, Richie fought down the decades-old urge to flee. Instead, he hissed out, "Christ, babe. Does this happen a lot?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Eddie shrugged. He supposed it happened fairly often. They were gay and happy and unapologetic and rubbing their new love in the face of millions of followers. It made sense, to an extent. This particular batch was just a lot.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Shaking his head, Richie tugged Eddie up by the hand. "No more phone,” he said, guiding him up the hallway toward their bedroom.  Eddie made an exaggerated reach for it and Richie, instead leaned over, sweeping him into a fireman’s carry.  “No more phone.”  He shoved the device down into his pocket before slapping Eddie’s ass and eliciting a yelp in response.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Put me down, jackass.  I’m a grown man.  I can wa-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Grown is an exaggerated term, toots,” he joked, navigating the hall with ease, despite his fiance kicking his feet and pounding his fists, calling him all sorts of creative names that thirteen year old never could have come up with.  He tossed Eddie down on the bed and pounced on him.  “I don’t know if you remember, but we literally bullied a space oddity to death.  I <em>think </em>we are uniquely qualified for a response to this little shithead.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With his hands on either side of Richie’s neck and his bony knees dug in just above his hips, he dumped Richie on to his side.  “I think that it’s a little kid and it’s not worth, I don’t know, screaming at him in the middle of a Chinese restaurant.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Feigning offense, Richie whimpered “That was ONE time, and,” he pushed his glasses back up onto his nose, adding “AND that’s something I only reserve for fans when I’m under emotional duress.  This wretched little crotch goblin is clearly not a fan of either of ours so an emotional outburst is far above them.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Eddie closed his eyes and shook his head, pulling Richie in for a kiss.  “I love you, but just let it go.  It’s not worth it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re upset, babe,” he said, landing on the one nickname that Eddie never fought him on because he was too busy fighting off the butterflies swarming in his belly when he said it to actually argue.  “That means it’s worth it to me.”  The corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile seeing Eddie’s resolve falter.  “You’re worth it all.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The next morning, the video Eddie posted didn’t feature him at all.  Instead, it was five of 69LonnyTheLiger420′s least creative jabs, mainly mentioning their ages and their sexuality, floating around Richie’s head as he sat at the keyboard in the room that belonged to Eddie months and months of quarantine prior.  “You’re prob’ly just a kid in middle school and I don’t wanna fight a kid in middle school,” he crooned, accompanying himself with easy chords.  “Instead of fighting kids in middle school,” he leaned into the camera like he had a secret, then smiled.  “I’m gonna fuck your mom!  I’m gonna fuck your mom.  I’m gonna fuck your mom.”  He bopped back and forth, looking slightly reminiscent of a character from Peanuts.  “Don’t be such a saddie ‘cuz you got a new Daddy,” he added with a cheeky wink, “I’ll help you find a suit to prom.”  He dragged his middle finger up the keys dramatically in a fairly effective glissando.  “But, fuck with me and I will fuck your mom.”  He raised his eyebrows and gave a little half-hearted salute. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Eddie swung the door open, then leaned against the doorframe looking at his fiance.  “Please don’t go the Burnham route.  I’m already sick of the people who compare you to Mulaney.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why?  They’re good guys.  I don’t min-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With a pointed stare, Eddie folded his arms.  “But you’re Richie Tozier.  You’re funny on your own.  You don’t need anyone else’s schtick.”  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Richie batted his eyes and smiled through pursed lips.  “You think I’m funny?” he cooed.  He may have played it up for Eddie’s consumption, but it still made him flutter when he actually admitted it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sticking his hand out and grabbing his phone to edit the video, “Come on, they put the final season of Schitt’s Creek up early so I am down for a rewatch,” he called from the hallway.  “At least I didn’t make you propose to yourself.  I love Patrick and all, but-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>”I proposed to you!  Twice!” he said, still blushing as he stood from the tiny collapsible piano bench.  “And does that mean you think you’re Patrick in this equation?  Because, <em>baby</em>,” he said, finally bounding into the living room, “apart from my eyebrow game, the kinship to the drinking of all wines, your startlingly similar boring fashion and comparative petite-ness,” Richie wagged his finger then swiped the remote from under the TV, “you are judgy, neurotic and,” he added quickly, “simply the best.”  He plopped down next to Eddie and wrapped him in his arms, kissing his neck.  “You are 100% the David here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They settled in for their binge watching.  Eddie’s phone dinged a few times, notifying them that the Losers were on the case, now.  Bill and Mike responded with a video of their own using the Pas de Deux from Us sporting matching unimpressed looks as they both tossed rocks from their garden idly in time with the music with the caption “Sticks and stones...”  It was <em>basically </em>non-threatening, if maybe a little ominous, unless anyone seeing the video knew the Losers and their history with bullies, which they surely doubted.  A duet from Bev and Ben, flatly responding Beep Beep came next.  Finally, Stan’s response was of himself and Patty on the couch.  She was looking at her phone confused, Richie’s song audible in the background, finishing the loop and restarting.  “I think at this point the Mom jokes should be retired, Rich.  Eddie’s going to start getting jealous if all these little assholes start calling you Daddy, too,” he said, smirking at the screen as Patty chastised him from off-camera.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Richie smiled, watching the responses over Eddie’s shoulder between episodes.  Even though momentary clips of the Losers were nice- it was better than nothing- Eddie really fucking missed them.  At least he knew that they’d always have his back.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was supposed to be 1k words.  Total.<br/>Ha.<br/>I'm trash.</p><p>***Please remember, chapter 1 was posted 2 weeks into quarantine for me.  Chapter 2 was posted one year and one week later.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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